


Scheduled for Termination

by Dolimir



Category: Supernatural, Terminator (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, Crossover, Gen, Weechesters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-06
Updated: 2011-06-06
Packaged: 2017-10-20 04:43:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/208863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dolimir/pseuds/Dolimir
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Mary’s heart sank as she stood beside the time-displacement machine, knowing that if the terminators were successful, the machines might never get the chance to rule the earth -- the demons might beat them to it. But Dean had a plan. And Mary could only shake her head. Just how many times was one family responsible for averting the apocalypse anyhow?</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Scheduled for Termination

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks go to Redfirecracker for her beta. Any mistake are my own, however, as I was unable to stop picking at it.
> 
> This story was originally written for the reel_spn challenge. Unfortunately, I missed the deadline, but I finished the story anyway.
> 
> One word of warning: The prologue is an info dump of sorts. Feel free to skip it.

**  
_Prologue_   
**

Mary Elizabeth Campbell was born on December 5, 1954. Her father was fond of saying that she was a true Sagittarian in every sense of the word, possessing a natural exuberance and sense of adventure that made her hard to keep up with, but fun to be around.

Mary was a girly girl, one who loved her dolls and her dresses. She loved to read and excelled in school because her quest for knowledge could never be sated.

While her friends were burning their bras and protesting the Vietnam “conflict,” she was keeping an eye out for a good man. Not politically correct by any stretch of the imagination, but she really wasn’t bothered much by that fact.

Mary fell for John Winchester while in college. It was a line she used a lot because it never failed to make him laugh. The truth was, however, she was in a bookstore on a stepladder, trying to reach a psychology book on the top shelf while John was hunting for an accounting book. He always claimed he bumped the ladder, but in reality she simply stretched too far and lost her balance, literally falling into his arms. He had her heart the moment he asked her if she was okay in that honey and whiskey voice of his.

Poor John never had a chance after that encounter.

They were married in a simple ceremony two years later.

John worked in a garage while she finished her teaching degree. By the time she started teaching, John had bought into a garage with a friend. Their days were hectic, but their nights were for them. They took long walks or snuggled on the couch and watched television together. On weekends, she’d sit in the shade and read while he lovingly restored an old Chevy Impala.

Their life was perfect.

When Mary told John she was pregnant, she thought he might burst something from swelling up in pride. He immediately went out and bought a little plastic t-ball and bat. And while she teased him about how they might be having a girl instead, she knew in her heart she was having a boy.

After Dean was born, John was in heaven. Some women might be jealous of the attention he lavished on their son, but Mary wasn’t, for she knew she was the one who had given John his son. In his eyes, she was an angel.

If Mary had been ecstatic after she and John were married, she was completely over the moon when it was the three of them. Happiness, it appeared, could indeed be multiplied.

So when Sammy was born, she actually worried about overdosing on joy.

With the garage doing so well, they made the decision that she would give up teaching so she could be home with the boys. While she felt a small pang of regret about the decision, it dissipated when she realized she would be able to share all her sons’ firsts with them.

Mary’s perfect world shattered on October 2, 1983, the night of Sammy’s six-month birthday.

Hearing the baby fuss, she got out of bed to check on him. Thinking that John had beaten her to the punch, which he often did, she went downstairs to turn off the television, only to find John sleeping in his favorite chair.

Fear took her voice, but not her will to move. She raced up the stairs to confront the intruder, only to find herself thrown against a wall and slowly rising toward the ceiling.

As a sharp pain sliced through her stomach, she did the only thing she could think to do, she screamed for her husband.

She’s regretted that act of cowardice every day for the rest of her life.

John raced into the room, his eyes frantically searching for her. When he found her on the ceiling, he didn’t hesitate; he jumped up and pulled her from the ceiling, just before it burst into flames.

“John,” she had gasped. “The baby.”

At the same time, Dean appeared in the doorway, sleepy and frightened, his eyes drawn to the flames above them.

John grabbed Sammy, placed him in Dean’s arms and told them to run and not look back. With Dean on his way, John turned back to get her, but a yellow-eyed man stepped out of the flames and confronted him.

“You can’t save them, Johnny. One by one, I’ll take them from you. You should have known you couldn’t hide.”

John turned toward her, his face full of love. “Run, baby. Run.” He then threw himself at the intruder and they both disappeared into the flames engulfing the room.

Sobbing hysterically, she crawled into the hallway and slid down the stairs. Holding her stomach, she lurched into the front yard and collapsed before her sons.

The official report, while politely written, made it clear that authorities could find no evidence that there had been a second man in the house. Common belief was that John was an abusive drunk and that Mary was a battered wife. With the wounds across her abdomen, the fire was interpreted as self-defense, or possibly John’s attempt at killing her. None of this speculation was in writing, it was just understood, and thus no one took her claims of an intruder seriously.

When she was fully recovered, she sold John’s share of the garage and started her quest to find the thing, for no normal human could walk out of a wall of flame unharmed, that killed her husband and had such a strange fascination with her youngest son.

She became driven, following leads no matter how obscure they might be. During her search, she discovered that other evil things lived in the darkness as well, and quickly made it her mission to eradicate all of them. She moved from town to town to hunt them, living in run-down hotels and backwoods cabins.

She taught her sons to hunt, to protect, to kill anything supernatural. In an effort to please her, they learned their lessons so well that the three of them garnered a reputation not only amongst hunters but the demons they hunted as well.

In her pursuit of evil, however, she went from being the boys’ mother to becoming their drill sergeant. Without the words actually being spoken, but with her full consent, Dean stepped into the role of being Sammy’s father, making sure that all the boy’s physical and emotional needs were met. Dean followed her orders to the letter, although silently. By the time he was ten, the only time she ever saw him truly smile was when he was caring for Sammy. As for Sam, he also became a warrior, but he longed for a normal life.

Weeks after Sam turned eighteen, they finally tracked down the demon that had killed John and vanquished it from every plane of existence.

In the silence that followed, Sam went to college, trying to obtain the fairytale status of normal. Dean, devastated by Sam’s loss, simply vanished.

Mary looked for him for a couple of years but finally decided to let him have whatever peace he could find. He deserved it. So she got a little apartment in San Jose, created a pseudonym and started fictionalizing her adventures. She became an instant best seller and found solace in her writings, although she deeply regretted the emotional distance between herself and her sons.

Sam finally reached out to Mary in his senior year of college. Ecstatic to be given a second chance, Mary stopped paying attention to the world around her. She didn’t realize that Cyberdyne Systems had been experimenting with artificial intelligence, and even if she had, she may not have foreseen any inherent danger. While she was aware of the company’s name, she didn’t realize the significance to their having cornered the market on practically everything electronic.

On August 4, 2007, the military deployed “Skynet,” the latest and greatest invention, guaranteed to revolutionize the country’s defense grid. At 2:14 a.m. on August 29th, Skynet became self-aware and decided that humanity, with all its petty hatred and violence, was the true enemy. While scientists attempted to pull the plug, Skynet launched all of the country’s nuclear weapons, starting a war most survivors would never know who began.

Five billion people died on what was to become known as Judgment Day.

Mary, Sam and Jesse, Sam’s wife, had survived, simply because they had gone into the mountains on vacation to celebrate the lucrative job offer Sam had received, even though it was contingent upon his successful graduation, still two semesters away.

During the chaos that followed, the machines rose from the ashes and began to propagate, continuing SkyNet’s original mission to exterminate mankind. The machines created death camps and herded every human they could find into them. The disposal units ran night and day.

It looked as if humanity had finally met its match.

Mary refused to accept defeat. She hadn’t taken on the underworld only to die because of an intelligent toaster. She, Sam and Jesse started a resistance movement, gathering all the survivors they could find and teaching them how to fight.

As they neared Los Angeles, they heard rumors of two men who were not only taking on the machines, but winning as well. They were gathering an army, and Mary and Sam decided it would be best if they join forces with these men.

When their group finally reached the camp of the men who were giving humanity a fighting chance, they were surprised to discover that one of the new messiahs was none other than Dean.

With his family once more gathered around him, Dean Winchester became unstoppable. The defeat of the machines came swift and hard, but moments before the final defeat, the machines managed to send an indeterminate number of terminators back through time to kill the leaders of the human resistance either before they were born or while they were children.

Mary’s heart sank as she stood beside the time-displacement machine, knowing that if the terminators were successful, the machines might never get the chance to rule the earth -- the demons might beat them to it.

But Dean had a plan.

And Mary could only shake her head. Just how many times was one family responsible for averting the apocalypse anyhow?

 

 **  
_CHAPTER ONE_   
**

Dean leaned against the fence outside of Sammy’s school, trying to ignore the hair standing at attention on the back of his neck. He had already surveyed the area a half-dozen times, but he couldn’t pinpoint the source that was pinging his radar.

While he was aware there were non-supernatural predators, there simply wasn’t anyone on the street. He supposed he could be feeling ill at ease because they were new in town and he hadn’t yet learned the rhythms of the neighborhood. He still hadn’t had an opportunity to vet the area between Sammy’s school and home to his satisfaction, but hoped to have that chore completed by the weekend.

He knew better than to ignore the feeling, but he wasn’t going to go on red alert just yet either.

The elementary school bell rang and moments later munchkins of all shapes and sizes poured through the doors.

He spotted ten-year old Sammy the second his brother stepped outside and smiled when he noticed the lightness to Sam’s steps. Transferring schools was never fun, but some transitions were easier than others. He suspected some of the ease this time had to do with the fact they moved into the neighborhood before school started. Dean had lucked out because all ninth graders were funneled into the high school in this district, which meant everyone his age was in his exact same position. He worried that Sammy’s integration might be harder because most of the kids in fifth grade had been going to school together for years, but there were enough families moving in and out of the neighborhood that Sammy wasn’t the only new student -- a benefit to living in a metropolitan area that Dean hadn’t considered before.

Sam’s entire face brightened when he spotted Dean. He raced toward him happily throwing his arms around Dean’s waist as soon as he reached him.

“Hey, squirt.” Dean affectionately ruffled Sam’s hair. “How did the book report go?”

“I got an A+!”

“Of course you did.” Dean wrapped an arm around Sam’s shoulder and headed toward home. “Do you have much homework tonight?”

“Just spelling, reading and math.”

“Can you be done by dinner?”

“Yeah. Why?”

Dean shrugged. “I thought we might do a little more recon of the neighborhood before dark.”

Sam raised a curious eyebrow, but remained quietly hopeful.

“I heard there’s an ice cream shop a few blocks over. We’d be,” Dean paused as he tried to remember the phrase his mother had used two weeks ago, “remiss in our duties if we didn’t make sure it wasn’t haunted.”

Sam’s laugh was bright and clear and for a split second Dean felt a pang of regret for their mother, who rarely got to see this side of Sam. Even when she was physically home, she was rarely in the moment.

When Dean was small, he was a daddy’s boy. Mom used to tease him that the reason she had Sammy was so she could have a little boy of her own to spoil too. But the deeper she delved into her research, the less time she actually spent with Sam. She had a great kid. Dean just wished she would realize it.

The prickly feeling of being watched gradually receded and Dean let himself relax a bit, although he was more determined to explore the neighborhood as thoroughly as possible as soon as he could.

 

 **  
_CHAPTER TWO_   
**

“So where did you get the money?” Sam licked his ice cream cone with a long slurping noise, and grinned happily at his brother.

“From Mrs. Ellis in 2B. I fixed her toaster oven two nights ago.”

“How much did she give ya?”

Dean gave him a sly grin. “Enough to cover two ice cream cones.”

“Is there any machine you can’t fix?”

“Well, Mrs. Wilson’s washing machine might be the first.” Dean sighed. If he could pull off that minor miracle, he’d earn thirty dollars, but it meant taking the motor apart and he hadn’t had time since Mrs. Rodriguez started telling all her widow friends about his talents. Not that he was complaining. With what he’d earned over the past month, his secret stash was almost up to seven hundred dollars.

He wasn’t sure what he was saving for, he only knew he never wanted to be caught without enough money to feed Sam again. Mom always left money for them when she went on a hunting trip, but sometimes hunts took longer than she expected or she’d get sidetracked on the way home.

Between his stash and Sammy’s ability to charm the local matrons while he fixed their appliances, he’d been able to keep Sam fairly healthy. How sad was it that they actually ate better when their mom was away than when she was home?

Dean’s neck began to tingle again. He laughed at one of Sam’s silly puns and casually turned, and immediately spotted a young woman directly behind them almost two blocks away. From the look of surprise on her face, he had clearly caught her. She ducked her head slightly, allowing her black hair to fall in front of her cinnamon-brown face, allowing her to see him, but not vice versa.

“Dean?” As Sammy turned toward him, the woman side-stepped into an alley and disappeared from view. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

But Sam was undeterred. “Who was she?”

Dean laughed. “What makes you think it was a woman?”

Sam rolled his eyes in exasperation. “Dee-eean.”

“What?”

“Of course it’s a woman. Mom says you’re starting to turn into a walking hormone.”

“Oh she does, does she?”

“Yep. Says it has to do with puberty and all that gross stuff. Personally, I can’t wait until your voice breaks.”

Dean made a playful attempt to grab Sam’s neck, but his brother danced out of range.

“Just remember, squirt, paybacks are a bitch and your time is still coming.”

“Yeah. Yeah.”

Dean laughed, but vowed to watch Sam closer. Whoever the woman was, she wouldn’t be getting any closer to his brother in this lifetime.

 

 _  
**CHAPTER THREE**   
_

After Dean put Sam to bed, he did a final check of the apartment, feeling the need to make sure all their wards and charms were firmly in place. He didn’t know what it was about the girl that worried him, but he knew better than to disregard the feeling.

On more than one occasion, the demon who had shown an interest in Sammy as an infant, had sent various minions to check on his progress. For as long as Dean could remember, his job had been to watch after Sam and to make sure none of the black-eyed freaks got too close to his brother. Of course, it also meant making sure his mom didn’t damage Sam in her quest to save him, which was definitely harder some days than others.

Dean had no idea why the demon was so interested in Sammy. He was essentially a little ball of light, bright and intelligent. It didn’t make any sense that something would want to harm him -- unless it was Sam’s purity that interested it. Although Dean suspected it might have something to do with Sam’s ability to move things with his mind. He didn’t do it very often because it gave him migraines, but Dean knew Sam’s abilities weren’t normal. In fact, he had made Sam swear not to tell their mom. Dean didn’t think she’d react badly to finding out her son had some hidden talents, but he’d rather be safe than sorry. Their deal was that Sam only practiced with Dean, and only when their mom was out of town.

He rechecked the salt lines and whispered various protection incantations he had picked up from various neighborhood widows before turning off the lights. It never hurt to add another layer of protection over what was already set down.

Something flashed from the street below, catching his eye. Flattening himself against the wall, he angled for a better view and saw the dark-skinned girl who had been shadowing them earlier looking up at lit windows in the building opposite them.

He moved quickly to the phone and called Pastor Jim’s number.

“Hello?” came the sleepy greeting.

“Padre?”

“Dean?” Dean could hear the man literately shake off his exhaustion and come alert.

“Is my mom there?”

“No. I was expecting her this morning, but she hasn’t shown yet. Are you and Sam alright?”

“We’re okay, but we might have picked up a shadow.”

“I’ll make some calls and see if I can’t point her home.”

“It might be nothing,” Dean said, worrying that he might be overreacting.

“Better safe than sorry.”

“Thank you.”

“May God watch over both of you boys.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he replied good-naturedly. While he adored Jim, Dean wasn’t sure he believed in a benevolent God like Jim did, but Jim never stopped letting Dean know the door was always open, if he should ever change his mind.

When he hung up, he checked the window again, but the girl was gone. He hoped he was overreacting, because otherwise their lives were going to get interesting really soon, and past experience had taught him that interesting was usually exhausting. He climbed into bed and waited for Sammy to stop his unconscious snuggling.

Whoever his mysterious tail was, she’d better stay the hell away from Sammy. Heck, if she knew what was good for her, she’d leave town, because once their mother got back she’d track her down and make her sorry for ever starting this cat and mouse game in the first place.

 

 _  
**CHAPTER FOUR**   
_

Mandatory pep rallies blew.

Dean bounced his head softly against the cement wall behind him, trying to come up with logical reasons not to gouge out his eyes. While he didn’t mind the short skirts on the drill team, he couldn’t give a flip about school spirit. And were they seriously hooting and hollering about their golf team? Just because jocks didn’t have lives didn’t mean the rest of them should have to suffer.

From his perch atop the bleachers, he looked at the kids around him; so happy with their lives and their day-to-day dramas, never realizing what lived in the darkness or how truly fragile they were. Dean wanted to hate them for their arrogance, but couldn’t. While he knew he could never have their life, he really wanted Sammy to live in their world, where his only concern was which sport to play or which pretty girl to date. But he was pretty sure normal would only come after the demon was killed.

His attention drifted from the over-caffeinated head cheerleader to a man casually walking into the gym. Dressed in black leather pants, a black t-shirt and a leather jacket, the man didn’t look too different from any of the men who lived in the neighborhood. He was muscular, but not overly ripped, and had a haircut that made him look like a cop. Dean wondered if they were going to get yet another safety lecture and groaned internally at the thought of the rally continuing on for another half hour.

The man viewed the proceedings with indifference as he strutted toward the microphone near the principal and several other teachers. Dean shifted uncomfortably in his seat when he noticed the man’s over-sized canvas bag. His mom used a similar bag on hunts. And while he was sure the man wasn’t carrying weapons, he now had Dean’s complete attention.

The man, Dean realized, moved liked a predator. He reeked of danger and looked like he wouldn’t know the word mercy if he was drowning in it. Every cell in Dean’s body began to whoop in red alert.

Mr. Hawkins, Dean’s Algebra I teacher, spotted the intruder and moved to intercept him, but the intruder flicked him away as if he were nothing more than a pesky insect. All noise stopped as the teacher landed in the center of the gym and everyone froze in place.

Typical fight or flight, Dean thought, desperately wanting to run himself, but not wanting to draw this man’s attention.

The intruder moved directly to the microphone.

“Dean Winchester,” he said in an inflectionless bass voice.

“Holy crap,” Dean mouthed. All heat left his body between one breath and the next.

“Excuse me,” Ms. Morganstern said in a sharp voice. “I must ask you to leave the gym at once. If you need to see a student-”

‘Student’ was the last word the principal ever uttered. As she began speaking, the intruder turned, pulled a shotgun out of his bag and removed her face at point blank range.

Chaos erupted as students started screaming. A flood of boys and girls scrambled down the bleachers and toward the exits furthest away from the intruder and his gun. Never changing his expression, the killer pulled out another large caliber gun and systematically began shooting every white male student in his path.

Dean slipped over the side of the bleachers, using the latticework of metal to make his way to the floor. Once grounded, he risked another peek, watching as the killer methodically work his way through the students jammed at the exit nearest the front. It quickly became obvious that he was ignoring girls and boys of color, and if he had to choose between a white boy with blond hair versus red, he killed the blond, as if he had a general description of Dean, but nothing specific.

Once he had killed all the boys at the front of the gym, the killer strode straight down the center of the room, killing any blond boy scrambling over the bleachers or too frightened to move.

Dean, who was hiding between two sets of bleachers, moved deliberately and quietly through the maze of metal supports beneath the bleachers toward the front of the gym. He knew it was a risky move, but in order to get to the doors at the far end of the gym he would have to move in front of the bleachers, hope for the best and try to get through the doors everyone else was desperately trying to funnel through. The wails and pleas of the nearly six hundred students trying to escape through the two double doors at the far end of the room confirmed his suspicions that his odds of survival in that direction were practically nonexistent.

His mother had always drummed the need for moving silently into his head since he was six; and for the first time in a long time, he was happy for those lessons.

As the killer reached the opposite end of the gym, his guns sounded almost continuously. Dean emerged from beneath the bleachers, wishing he could do something for the others, but before he could do anything rash, he remembered one of his mother’s most basic lessons, which was to get Sammy, regroup and reassess.

Ducking into the hallway, he turned the closest corner and ran for the exit, his only thought – to get Sammy.

 

 **  
_CHAPTER FIVE_   
**

During his fourteen years on Earth, Dean came to realize that luck was rarely on his side. As his mom was fond of saying, ‘Winchesters make their own luck instead of depending on random chance.’ That being said, Dean nearly wept with relief when he found Sammy’s class at recess.

Sam, as usual, was reading a book under one of the larger trees that surrounded the playground.

Nerves kept him from being able to whistle the first time he tried, but he dug his nails into his palms and gave a short set of whistles that not only told Sam to come to him but that they were on red alert as well.

Dean watched with pride as Sam noted the positions of two teachers on recess duty and took a moment to figure out the best way to slip unnoticed off the playground.

As soon as Sam reached his side, Dean wrapped his arm around Sam’s shoulder and hugged him tight, grounding himself in his brother and trying to ignore the scream of dozens of sirens as they raced through the neighborhood.

“We’re bugging out.”

Sam’s eyes widened in surprise. “Mom’s back?”

“No.” Dean gave him a gentle shove toward home, then fell into step beside him.

“Then why…You didn’t kill anyone, did you?”

A part of Dean wanted to snort in amusement while the other part of him was horrified that Sam could ask such a question. “No,” he answered softly, but wondered how much longer that simple declaration might remain true.

Sam knew better than to stop, but his face turned toward Dean in concern.

Dean debated for a moment about trying to keep the truth from his brother, but realized if they had any chance at survival they had to be on the same page. “A man showed up during assembly today, called my name and started killing anyone who got in his way.”

Sam gasped, but started jogging when Dean did.

As soon as they reached their apartment building, Dean stopped and turned to his brother. “Get your running pack. You have two minutes to figure out what else you want to take that will fit in your pack. Everything else stays.”

Sam nodded nervously, but ran up the stairs in front of Dean. As soon as they entered the apartment, Dean headed for his stash of money, then moved into the kitchen and pulled out the First Aid kit from beneath the cupboard. He stuffed it into a larger canvas bag that held their emergency hunting kit, including several small firearms. Sam slid Dean’s running pack into the front room. Dean absently slung it over his back, confident that anything he considered valuable was already safely tucked away in its pockets.

Dean made a quick survey of the room to make sure there were no pictures out, not that he expected there would be because his mom usually kept them in the Impala, but he couldn’t afford to take any chances. He also made sure there were no address books or slips of paper with phone numbers on them lying around. When he was convinced there was nothing left in the apartment that could be used to track them, he yelled for his brother.

“Sam!”

“Here,” came the quiet response from behind him.

“Ready?”

Sam cast one look of regretful longing toward his room, but nodded.

Dean relocked the apartment, praying they’d have an opportunity to come back, but knew it was highly unlikely. Once they bugged out of a place, they never went back. Ever.

He pointed Sam up the stairs, and they jogged their way to the roof. Dean figured that since the roofs of the neighboring buildings connected for nearly an eighth of a mile he might as well use it to their advantage.

When they reached the fire escape at the end of the last building, Dean stopped, giving them both a moment to catch their breath.

Sam leaned against him and Dean’s arm automatically went around his brother.

“Are you scared?” Sam asked in a small voice.

“No.”

“How can you not be?”

“Because fear keeps you from thinking clearly, and in an emergency situation the last thing you want to do is panic.”

Sam rolled his eyes, just like he normally did whenever Dean parroted their mom.

“I just don’t understand what’s going on,” Dean finally admitted. “Why was he looking for me? Me, of all people. What did he want?”

“Was it a demon?”

“I don’t know. I guess he could have been, but they’re usually quite a bit more covert than that.”

“Do you think mom’s getting close to the one that killed dad?”

“She must be. There’s no other explanation.” Dean shook his head as he tried to gather his thoughts. “We need to go to ground, get you out of the limelight.”

“Why do they call it that?”

“Call it what?”

“Limelight. Why not cherry light or orange light?”

“Oh brother.”

“Or how about chocolate light.”

“Okay, Brainiac, get your ass onto the fire escape.”

Sam snickered. “But Dean, I don’t think my donkey will fit.”

 

 _  
**CHAPTER SIX**   
_

Because Dean wasn’t old enough to rent a hotel room, even if he did have cash in hand, Mary always made sure their fall back position was an abandoned building or factory, usually on the edge of town, with a working phone either on the premises or really close nearby.

They took the city bus to the dying industrial park, watching grimly as police cars, fire trucks and ambulances raced by them. Sam fumbled for Dean’s hand and Dean squeezed it reassuringly.

The walk from the bus stop to the abandoned building was nearly a half mile, but there was no one else on the road so they didn’t have to worry about doubling back on their double back.

The office their mom had set up for them was on the east side of the building, on the third floor. Dean pulled out his key and opened the door. Inside lay a mattress encased in plastic, a desk that had seen better days, a chair, an avocado green dial phone and a television that looked to be nearly twenty years old. The room smelled of dust, but looked better than the room they had actually lived in for two months when they were in Alabama.

Dean pointed to the mattress, even as he moved toward the desk. Sammy obediently tossed his backpack beside it, but waited until Dean sat at the desk then moved to his side and leaned against him again as Dean dialed the ancient looking phone.

“Hello?”

“Padre?”

“Dean, are you okay? Is Sammy with you?” Jim asked frantically.

“Yes. We’re both okay.”

“The shootings have made the national news, Dean.”

“Did the cops get him?” Dean asked, hoping the nightmare was ending before it really got started.

When Jim hesitated, Dean felt the same cold fear wash over him that he'd felt in the gym. “What? What is it?”

“Whatever it is, Dean, it isn’t human.”

“So it’s a demon?”

“I don’t know. I’ve called Bobby and he’s looking into it, but I just don’t know.” Jim took a deep breath and released it. “Are you boys safe?”

“Yes, sir, we’re at that alpha fallback.”

“Do you have a television?”

“Yeah.”

“You might want to turn it on. Just to see what you’re up against.”

“Sammy.” Dean gave his brother a little nudge. “Turn on the TV.”

Sam showed great reluctance to leave his side, but obeyed. It took him a few moments to figure out how to turn on the set, then a few more to find a station they could see clearly. Once he’d found one, he turned up the volume and moved back to Dean’s side, not even bothering to look at the screen.

Dean was shocked as pictures of the devastation casually rolled by on the set. Bodies, some covered, some not, laid on the ground like discarded rag dolls.

It took Dean several heartbeats to realize a reporter was talking.

 _“Katie, what of the killer?”_

 _"No new clues have surfaced, Chad.”_

A shaky picture appeared on the screen as the killer strode out of the building. Police yelled at him to put down his weapon. Instead, he started shooting. The police returned fire. And while the body jerked, it did not stop, instead it melted like molten silver and ran into a nearby street drain.

“Jesus, Jim,” Dean whispered into the phone.

“I know.”

“Jesus.” Dean closed his eyes. “How am I supposed to protect Sammy from something like that?”

“I don’t know.”

“Where’s mom?”

“I don’t know.” Jim paused. “But Dean, whatever you do, you can’t go to the police. They might want to protect you, but we both know they won’t be able to.”

“Jesus.”

“Stay where you are, Dean. Your mom will have heard about this by now. You know she’s working her way to you.”

“Jesus,” Dean whispered again.

“Dean!”

“Yeah. Okay. Yeah, I hear you.”

“God be with you and Sam, son.”

Dean nodded absently, knowing he was going to need all the help he could get and if God wanted to help, he was going to let him. He hung up the phone, his eyes drifting back to the set.

“Dean?” Sam asked in a broken voice.

Dean wrapped his arms around his little brother and pulled him into his lap, rocking him back and forth.

“I swear to you, Sammy, I’ll protect you. I swear it. I swear it.”

*-*-*-*-*-*

Even though he knew he had a better chance of being elected President of the United States before he turned fifteen than he did of stopping the thing after them with salt, Dean still made Sammy lay the lines.

Routines were important and he knew the task would make Sam feel as if he had some control over his life. And just how ironic would it be to be offed by a ghost at a time like this?

They split a MRE between them, neither of them feeling particularly hungry.

Before the sun set, Dean pulled two blankets from the desk drawer and laid one over the plastic. Once things were set up, they made a quick trip to the bathroom down the hall. He made sure Sam brushed his teeth and washed his face and hands. When they were done, he made a point to study the layout of the rooms as they worked their way back to their office.

“Take off your shoes and belt, Sammy.”

Sam did as instructed, then laid stiffly on the mattress, allowing Dean to wrap the other blanket around him without protest.

“Say your prayers.”

Dean watched his brother bring his hands together and silently move his lips.

For the first time in years, Dean wished he believed, wished that by talking to some higher power he could keep Sam safe, but he'd seen too much evil to believe in a benevolent father figure who kept track of sparrows.

Sam yawned. “Aren’t you going to sleep too?”

“I will in a bit. Close your eyes, squirt. Get some sleep while you can.”

Sam rolled onto his side, then a minute later rolled onto his stomach. A few moments after that, he flipped onto his back.

Sighing, Dean toed off his shoes and lay on top of the blanket beside his brother. Sam immediately snuggled closer, then hummed contently.

“You big girl.”

Sam ignored him and finally gave himself over to sleep.

 

 **  
_CHAPTER SEVEN_   
**

Dean rose through the layers of sleep, feeling distinctly uncomfortable, as if someone were watching him. The more awake he became the more he realized that every nerve in his body was on high alert. While his body’s normal reaction was to tense up, he managed to keep his muscles loose. Ever so slowly he moved his fingers toward his automatic, which had somehow wedged itself under his thigh.

“If I wanted you dead, I’d never have allowed you to wake up,” a soft voice said from just outside the room.

Dean’s eyes shot open and he made no further effort at subtly. He grabbed his automatic and pointed it at the brown-skinned woman squatting just outside the doorway. A part of him wanted to wake Sam, who always slept like a rock, but demons liked to mess with people’s heads, so he decided not to involve him until it couldn’t be helped.

“You can’t have him, so you might as well slink back to whatever rock you crawled out from,” Dean said quietly from between gritted teeth.

The woman’s eyebrows crinkled in confusion, making Dean realize she was actually much younger than he originally thought. “I’m not here for Samuel, General. I’m here for you.”

It was Dean’s turn to frown. _General?_ “Boy, lady, do you have the wrong guy.”

Her gaze roved over him. “Are you not Dean Winchester, son of Mary and John Winchester, brother to Samuel?”

With demons, it was really important not to agree or disagree with them, so Dean settled on glaring balefully at her.

The girl shut her eyes as if chastising herself. “I can’t believe you’re already screwing this up,” she mouthed to herself.

“Who are you?” Dean briefly wondered if there was some sort of class that demons were required to take before they were allowed to taunt humans, and what happened if they failed because he had never seen a demon chastised itself before.

The woman looked relieved, almost happy to be able to answer a question. “I’m Biehn, Sergeant Tech-Comm. DN38416.”

“Look, lady, I might be just a kid, but I know there’s no such thing as a Sergeant Tech-Comm.”

“Maybe not now, but there will be.”

“What do you mean, _‘there will be’?”_

“In my time.”

“Which is?”

“A number of years in your future.”

“My future.” Dean shook his head. Just how gullible did she think he was? “And you’re here -- why?”

“Because I’ve been assigned to protect you.”

“Protect me? From what?”

“From the T-1000 advanced prototype assigned to your termination.”

“My what?” Dean’s voice cracked. He blushed as he looked over at Sam, making sure he was still asleep. “My what?” he repeated in a steadier voice.

“You’ve been scheduled for termination, sir.”

Dean pointed at his chest with his free hand. “I have?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Me? Dean Winchester?”

Biehn looked at him and grimly nodded.

“But I’m just a kid. Why would anyone want to kill me?”

Before Biehn could answer, the barrel of a semi-automatic was pressed to her temple. “That’s a really good question.”

Dean closed his eyes in relief. “Mom. Thank God!”

 

 _  
**CHAPTER EIGHT**   
_

Mary's gaze never left the girl in front of her. "I want you to stand, nice and slow. Keep your hands away from your body."

The girl complied, but as she turned ever so slightly to look at Mary, a smile blossomed over her face. "Mama Winchester," she said in a reverent whisper, as if not really believing what she was seeing.

"I don't know you," Mary replied sharply.

"No. Not yet."

Dean looked back and forth between the two women. "She says she's from the future.”

"Oh, she does, does she?" Mary's snort clearly indicated what she thought of that idea. "First things first." She motioned her gun into the room. "Let's see if you can cross the salt line."

“As you wish.” The girl obediently stepped over the salt line and into the room. "I would have done so earlier, but I didn't want to frighten the General as he’s renowned for his reflexes and the protectiveness he showers on his brother.”

Dean couldn't help the shit-eating grin which grew over his face. "She keeps calling me General, although I don’t have a clue as to why."

Mary stepped into the room as well, her gaze quickly roaming over Sam and Dean before returning to the girl, who was leaning against the far wall. "Why don't you start at the beginning?"

The girl nodded, but before Mary could ask another question, she blurted out, "You will win your crusade against the demon that killed your husband."

Mary’s mouth dropped open in shock, but she quickly snapped it shut. "How?" she demanded.

"Daniel Elkins, a hunter like yourself, has a pistol, made by Samuel Colt on the night of a full moon when Haley's Comet was overhead. It can kill anything supernatural."

"What?" Mary lowered the gun. "That's supposed to be a myth."

"It's not."

Dean had never seen Mary so stunned, watching as she blinked several times, as if trying to put her thoughts back in order. "What does that have to do with the thing hunting my son?"

"Nothing."

"What?"

"Not a thing. The General, however, insisted that be the first thing I told you when we met."

"Wha—Why?"

"He didn't share his reasoning with me, but I suspect he hoped if he could shorten your quest you’d be able to be a family again, if only for a bit longer this time."

Dean felt the overwhelming urge to fidget, like he should be ashamed for something he did, but he wasn't quite sure for what. "What do you mean ‘if only for a little bit longer this time’?"

"Because on August 29, 2007, the world as you know it will come to an end."

Dean swallowed hard, his hand automatically moving to rest on the back of his sleeping brother.

"For years, nobody will know who started dropping the bombs. Survivors will speculate, of course, but all their guesses will be wrong, because in the end it’ll turn out to be the machines."

"The machines?" Dean asks.

"A couple years from now, mankind will start experimenting with artificial intelligence. With each success, they'll be come lazier and more lackadaisical in their protocol diligence. In their arrogance, they will create SkyNet, a defense network computer built for SAC-NORAD by a company called Cyberdyne Systems.

"It was…that is to say, it will be deployed on August 4th. Sometime on August 29th it will become self-aware. Microseconds after it achieves consciousness it will decide that all people are a threat, not just the ones on the other side. It’s believed our fate was determined less than a second after it became self-aware.”

“Our fate?” Dean asked, barely breathing, caught in Biehn’s anguish.

“Extermination.”

“What?” Mary whispered.

"Billions died shortly thereafter, and millions more in the aftermath of the nuclear winter. We called it Judgment Day, but only because we thought we had been judged by God and deemed unworthy. It’s sort of ironic to discover that we were judged by something that didn’t even have a soul. Those unfortunate enough to survive struggled to find food and water, never realizing that the machines were rising from the ashes. The first ones they learned about were the HKs."

Dean swallowed hard. "HKs?"

"Hunter Killers. Patrol Machines. They were built in automated factories. Those who weren’t killed outright were rounded up and placed in camps for orderly disposal."

Biehn pushed up the sleeve of her shirt to display a barcode on her forearm. "Some of us were kept alive to work. I was small, so they used me to climb up into the machines to pull out limbs that jammed the disposal units.” Biehn softly cleared her throat. “I was rarely allowed to sleep for more than twenty minutes at a time. I was pretty sure I’d never see my tenth birthday because I knew they’d never allow me to reach breeding age.

"But there were two men who walked into hell and pulled us out. They taught us to fight. They showed us what true courage was. Not only that, but they showed us how to storm the wires of the disposal camps and smashed those mother fucking machines into junk."

Tears ran down Biehn's face and she scrubbed them off harshly with the back of her hand. "They brought us back from the brink and taught us how to look for the machine’s vulnerabilities."

Mary’s eyes were suspiciously bright. “It sounds like you won.”

Biehn nodded, her voice still wavering. “We did.”

"So why are you here?" Mary asked, not unkindly.

"The final defensive grid was smashed beyond repair. We'd taken the mainframes. But as we stormed the lab complex, we found time-displacement equipment. They had already sent several terminators back to various times in the past.

"Connor was able to download most of their mission parameters before the system purged itself. We know that one was sent back in time to kill Connor’s mother. We think the machines were hoping to terminate her before Connor was even born. However, almost all records were lost on Judgment Day and Skynet knew almost nothing about her. All they had was her name and the city she lived in. I went to the library after I arrived here and discovered that seventeen years ago someone tried to kill every Sarah Connor in Los Angeles."

"Why?" Dean asked in horror.

"It was just being systematic." Biehn looked over at Mary.

“Did she survive?” Dean asked.

Biehn nodded.

“How do you know?”

“Because two years ago, another terminator tried to kill both John and Sarah Conner in Los Angeles.”

Mary leaned forward, intently. “So they know about Cyberdyne?”

“Yes. They apparently destroyed the building, the lab and all the records Cyberdyne had.”

Mary relaxed noticeably. “Then it’s over. I mean, the world’s safe now. Right?”

“I don’t know. I hope so, but I don’t understand all the cause and effect stuff,” Biehn said quietly. “Even if they somehow managed to change to future, it doesn’t change the fact your son has a terminator after him.”

Shaking her head, Mary frowned slightly. “Why didn’t they--”

"I'm sure the machines would have sent a terminator after you as well, but sometime during your hunting years you apparently wiped out all records of you and your sons’ existence from every computer you could find. Skynet had no idea where to find you."

Mary shrugged, but remained silent.

"While you remained off their radar, Connor had, unfortunately, been put into foster care and Skynet was able to get an address for the people who were caring for him."

"And Dean?" Mary asked.

"We discovered a yearbook at the lab complex with the General’s name in it, although there wasn’t a picture. It was a long shot, but it was all they had."

"And that thing at school?" Dean asked.

"It's a T-1000, an advanced prototype terminator, composed of a mimetic polyalloy."

"What does that mean?"

"It's basically liquid metal. It can take on the shape of anything it touches, although it can't form complex shapes or moving parts. It also can’t absorb memories of the people it touches, but it’s incredibly intelligent and adapts faster than any machine we’ve ever seen before. If we hadn’t destroyed the complex, the war might have been lost within a matter of weeks."

Mary pinched the bridge of her nose. "Maybe, just maybe, we should go to the authorities this time."

Biehn pushed herself off the wall. "You can't do that?"

"Why not?"

"Do you think anyone will believe you?"

"After seeing what I saw on television, I think they might."

"You don't understand. A terminator is a killing machine. The T-1 model had…has neuronet processors and a power cell that can last a hundred and twenty years. It's capable of taking on a hundred humans without thought. The General has a T-1000 after him. We didn’t have time to decipher the specs before I came through. The only thing that gives me any hope at all that it can be stopped is the fact that the one sent after John Connor is no longer wreaking havoc on your population. If you take your son to the authorities, you'll simply be making it easier for the terminator to find him."

"But…"

"No. You don't understand. It can't be reasoned with, it can't be bargained with; it doesn't feel pity or remorse or fear. And it absolutely will not stop until he's dead. You think your demon is awful? It's nothing compared to this machine. Your demon wants to take over the world, but it has to follow a set of rules. This machine has no rules. No limitations."

"Can you stop it?" Dean asked, not liking how small his voice sounded.

"I don't know.” Biehn shook her head and shrugged. “I honestly don’t know."

Mary frowned. "Why didn't you bring any weapons with you?"

"I had to come through naked. There's something about the field generated by a living thing. Nothing dead will go through."

"But if terminators are machines…."

"I don't know." Biehn threw up her hands. "I didn't build the fucking thing."

"Then what do you suggest we do?" Mary asked.

"Hide."

"What? We can't just hide."

"We have to. This thing is going to track down everyone you ever loved, ever cared about, hell, ever ran across or spoke to in an attempt to find him."

"But you said it didn't know anything about us," Dean protested.

"It didn't know what you looked liked, but by now it's been through your school records. It's found your apartment. It's downloaded every call you've made on your phone. It's--"

"Oh, God. Mom! I called Pastor Jim."

Mary leapt toward the phone.

"You can't!" Biehn shouted. "It may have already tracked him down and downloaded his records."

"That's not possible," Mary shouted in frustration.

"Maybe not for you now. But with its abilities--"

"Mom!" Dean turned and shook his mother’s arm. "I called Jim from here, trying to find you."

"Wake your brother," Mary said in a clipped voice. She then turned to the phone and dialed. "Come on. Come on. Jim. Abandon ship. Abandon ship. I don't care. Leave now. Leave everything. I don't know. I don't know! You can't go home. Run! Now! Don’t come back until you have my visual confirmation with the epsilon passwords. Tell Bobby, Bill, Caleb and Joshua, anyone you’ve talked to in the past month, and anyone they’ve spoken with. This is huge, Jim. No. You’re just going to have to trust me."

"Sammy, wake up. Come on, up and at ‘em." Dean kept up a steady patter as he located Sam’s pants and pulled them over his brother’s plaint legs. “Open those eyes, squirt.” He fumbled around for Sam’s shoes and blinked in surprise when Biehn handed them to him. He nodded his thanks then shook each of Sam’s legs before he slipped the shoes onto his feet. Once the shoes were secure, Dean pulled Sam to his feet, then quickly pulled on his own shoes.

Biehn pulled an automatic out of the back of her pants and pulled back the slide. “Come on, we gotta get out of here!”

Mary slapped the phone receiver back in its cradle, then started pulling items out of the desk drawer and slamming them into the emergency hunting pack.

Sam rubbed his eyes with the back of his hands. “What’s going on, Dean?”

“We’re bugging out.” He slipped his brother’s pack onto his shoulders, then grabbed his own.

“But we just got here.”

“I know, but we gotta run. And we’re going to have to be real quiet about it too. You know, all commando like.”

Mary looked at Biehn. “You have the rear.”

“As you wish.”

“Hey.” Sam grinned as he stared curiously at Biehn. “Isn’t she--”

Dean silenced him by gently squeezing his hand.

“Follow me, boys.” Mary slipped out of the room and Dean, pulling his brother, followed obediently.

 

 **  
_CHAPTER NINE_   
**

By the time they reached the first floor, Dean wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to take an involuntary breath again. Every noise seemed magnified, every dark corner sinister. While he knew Biehn was sincere in her desire to keep him safe, he wanted nothing more than to get Sam safely into the car. After all, there had to be some sort of mistake. Sam was the one everyone wanted. Not him. Yeah, he was good with machines, but a general in a war against living machines. It didn’t make any sense.

Mary led them to a side entrance. When they got to the filthy glass door, she pointed to her chest, then to the black Impala outside. She simulated turning the ignition, then pointed to Dean and Sam.

Dean nodded, letting her know he understood.

As he watched his mother go outside, he couldn’t help but pray. He wasn’t sure his pleas would do any good, but he was willing to give the Big Guy one more chance.

Mary moved to the car with no problems, unlocked the doors, then started the car. As soon as the engine began purring, Dean herded his brother outside, surprised to find the first rays of dawn peeking over the horizon. Biehn followed, her gun extended as she searched the roofs of the surrounding buildings.

As soon as Sam was in the front seat, Dean opened the back door.

“Oh fuck,” Biehn whispered.

Dean turned. “What?”

“Get in the car. Now!”

Dean looked down the alley and saw something move in the darkness. Several seconds later, the man…the thing from school stepped into the weak morning light. And although he had been trained for evasion for years, he found he couldn’t take his eyes off the machine sent from the future to kill him.

Biehn grabbed him by the back of the shirt and shoved him into the car. “Go! Go! Go!” she shouted at Mary. She didn’t even have a chance to shut the door before the car leapt forward.

As Mary accelerated, the machine started running after them. Dean got to his knees and turned in his seat, gasping when he noticed the thing was actually gaining on them.

“Uh, mom.”

“I know.”

Even though the car was picking up speed, the machine drew impossibly closer.

“Mom!”

The terminator leapt forward, its hands morphing into metallic claws as it dug into the trunk and pulled the rest of its body forward.

Biehn, with her back braced against the front seat, fired through the glass window, causing huge holes to appear in the body of the man, but he continued to move forward, his eyes locked on Dean.

One of the terminator’s arms shot forward, grabbed Dean’s shirt and tried to pull him forward.

“Dean!” Sammy screamed from the front seat.

Dean pushed as hard as he could against the back seat, doing his best to gain some leverage against the seat but knew in the end it was going to be a losing battle. Biehn reloaded and fired six more shots in rapid succession and while the terminator’s head split open, it didn’t release its grip on Dean.

“Sammy, the wheel!”

As soon as her youngest grasped the steering wheel, Mary turned in her seat, practically standing on the gas pedal. She slid the barrel of her favorite shotgun over Dean’s shoulder and fired it directly into the arm holding him. The kick of the gun slammed into Dean’s chin, but the tears he felt burn his eyes were not due to any pain, but to the relief he felt as he fell into the foot well of the back seat. He was sure he’d never forget the look of surprise on the machine’s half-healed face as it tumbled off the back of the car.

A puddle of silver dribbled down the back of the seat but Biehn quickly ripped a sleeve off her shirt, gathered it up and threw it out the back window.

As Dean scrambled back into his seat, he could see the terminator tumbling over and over again until it finally came to a stop.

He watched in horror as the thing stood up and started running again. “Oh my God.”

He turned in time to catch his mother’s gaze in the rear view mirror and for the first time in his memory, Dean saw real fear in her eyes, although she quickly masked it by turning her attention back to the road.

“That bastard put holes in my baby,” she said in a wobble voice.

Biehn’s gaze never left the thing that was now only a speck on the horizon. “We have to get rid of the car.”

“I’m not getting rid of the car,” Mary said stubbornly.

“You have to. It’ll start running every black Chevy Impala it comes across into the ground.”

Mary’s voice sounded torn. “I can’t. This was John’s car.”

Biehn finally turned and locked gazes with Mary in the mirror. “It’s either the car or your son.”

“Could we hide it? Come back for it later?” Dean asked, trying to break the growing tension between the two women.

Mary gritted her teeth, but nodded once, sharply, making Dean wonder which she would have chosen if he hadn’t given her an alternative.

 

 **  
_CHAPTER TEN_   
**

Dean tried unsuccessfully to swallow the lump in his throat as he placed a hand in the middle of his mother’s back.

“Your father loved this car,” she said by way of acknowledgment.

Dean couldn’t do anything but nod.

Her eyes took on a faraway gaze, as if she wasn’t in the present any longer. “Every Saturday he’d tinker with it, even though she always purred like a kitten. When you were three, he used to set you inside the engine so you could watch him work. You used to hand him his tools while he explained how and why everything worked.”

“We’ll come back for her, mama. We will,” he vowed quietly.

Mary nodded, but didn’t look at him.

“Luis will take good care of her.”

“Yeah, he will, or I’ll feed him his balls for lunch.”

Dean couldn’t stop the snicker that escaped him. Mary looked at him sharply, but her expression quickly morphed into something more sheepish.

Dean gave her a small smile. “Not that you have any strong attachments to the car or anything.”

Mary grinned with chagrin, turned and wrapped her arm around Dean’s shoulder. “Come on. Let’s go see what hunk of crap Luis is going to try to pass off as gold.”

 

 **  
_CHAPTER ELEVEN_   
**

“I’m going to gut Luis and use his intestines for a jump rope.” Mary’s voice was cold but surprisingly calm as she stared down into the overheated engine of the Dodge Dart whimpering on the side of the road.

Dean quickly took in Sam’s shocked expression before he looked back at his mother. “Gee, Mom. Way to be graphic.”

“I can’t believe that pendejo--”

“Mom!” Dean protested.

Biehn stood silently off to the side, scanning every car that passed them. “We need to get off the road.”

“No shit. Any other pearls of wisdom, Captain Obvious?” Mary snapped.

“There.” Biehn pointed to a nearby mall. “We can find transportation there.”

Mary stubbornly shook her head. “Just give me a second, I should be able to…”

But the words died on her lips as a white Cadillac Seville going the other direction slammed on its brakes, causing the cars behind it to careen into each other.

Without thought, Dean grabbed Sam’s hand and started running toward the mall.

“Dean?” Sam's voice was trembling as he struggled to keep apace.

“Run, Sammy. Run as hard and as fast as you can.”

Seconds later Biehn was by his side.

“Mom?” Dean asked.

But before he could slow enough to turn his head, he heard her voice. “Don’t stop. Foxtrot, Dean. Do you understand me?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

As they neared the mall entrance, people noticed the weapons in the women’s hands and started screaming. Dean ignored them as they raced ahead and flung the glass doors open. He took the briefest of seconds to look back, hoping with every atom of his body that they were simply overreacting to a random car accident, but his heart dropped to his knees when he saw the terminator in the distance.

“Don’t speak and never stop moving.” Biehn grabbed him by the shirt and threw him inside the building.

A second later, Sammy’s small frame slammed into his back. Dean seized Sam’s hand again, ran to the main branch of the mall and veered left, vaguely remembering that there was a big chain store at the end of the mall, one with a labyrinth of clothes racks and a back entrance.

They had almost reached their goal when gunshots rang out from behind them. Several shoppers froze in place, unsure what to do. Dean dragged his brother around them as they sprinted the remaining distance to the store. Sam’s breath was starting to stutter and Dean knew he had to give his brother a chance to catch his breath. He didn’t dare look back as he heard more shots being fired, but simply plunged into the store, past the make-up counters and into the sea of clothing racks. As soon as deemed they were in deep enough he slid to his knees, pulling Sam down beside him.

“What are we going to do, Dean?” Sammy’s normally sun-kissed face was so pale as to be almost white as he gasped for breath.

Despite Biehn instructions to remain silent, Dean couldn’t not respond to his frightened brother. Pulling Sam flush to his right side, he positioned his mouth near his brother’s ear. “First, we’re going to catch out breath.” He made a big production out of taking a deep breath and slowly releasing it, repeating the action over and over until Sam’s breath matched his own. Once Sam’s tremors started to subside, he gave his brother an encouraging nod. “Now, we need to try to get a handle on this situation.”

More gunshots reverberated down the mall.

“Do you think mama’s still alive?” Sam asked in a wobbly voice.

Dean didn’t hesitate. “I know she is.”

“So why isn’t she here?”

“Because she’s laying a false trail.”

Sam’s eyes got huge.

“Which means she trusting us to meet her at the rendezvous point.”

“She is?”

“Yeah.” Dean grabbed Sam’s knees and turned him so that he was looking into his brother’s eyes. “Are you brave enough to come with me or do you want to wait here?” Dean knew he would never leave his brother behind, but he wanted Sam to feel like he had a choice in his fate.

“I’m coming with you.” Sam’s eyes flashed indignantly.

“All right,” Dean whispered, “but if we do this, you have to do what I say when I say it.”

“And that’s different from any other day, how?”

A smile teased the corner of Dean’s lips, but disappeared as the next volley of shots bounced down the mall.

“Beside me.” Dean crawled between the brightly colored racks of clothes, trying to keep his limbs from slipping out from beneath him on the recently waxed floor. He looked back toward the mall opening several times, gratified to discover that he couldn’t see anything happening in the mall, but knowing that meant Sammy and he couldn’t be seen as well. His elation, however, quickly turned cold as he noticed that the racks ran out before they reached the outer doors.

The thought of being caught out in the open made his blood run cold, but he couldn’t think of any other way to get out of the building. Nudging Sammy, he jutted his chin toward the glass doors.

A shadow fell over them just as they reached the set of outer doors. Dean grabbed his brother and rolled Sam underneath him. When nothing happened, he looked up and found a policeman crouching just outside the door, silently waving them forward.

“You’ve got good instincts, kid,” the cop said in quiet approval as soon as they were outside. Dean could only nod. “Any idea what’s going on?”

“The man…from the school…on the television…”

“Do you know where he is?”

“Down the mall.”

“Get your brother out of here. I’m going to see if I can get a better grasp on what’s happening.”

Dean had always been wary of law officials, but he didn’t want to anyone else harmed because of him. “Don’t engage him.”

The cop smiled at him. “Believe me, kid. I won’t.”

Dean watched the cop withdraw his gun from his holster and slip into the store. Taking Sam’s hand, he started to move further into the parking lot, but stopped as a thought occurred to him. Chances were the Dart still had their packs and his money in it. He knew his mother would skin him alive for even considering what he was thinking, but he knew he couldn’t just walk away from what few resources they had left.

“Come on, Sam. I got an idea.”

 

 **  
_CHAPTER TWELVE_   
**

Getting to and starting the Dart was rather anti-climatic. His mom had been right in her assumption that the car would have started if they had only had a few more minutes to let it cool down. Of course, given the Winchester luck, it was minutes they hadn’t had. But given the Winchester determination, he was back.

Dean speculated that one of the reasons the car had probably overheated was because the ancient little vehicle couldn’t handle the weight of four people and their gear. Hopefully, without the weight of two full grown women, he and Sam wouldn’t have the same problem. Also, his mom had a tendency to push all cars like they were the Impala. But if he were to baby the rust bucket, it might react a mite more kindly.

Dean was very careful not to exceed the posted speed limit or to look around too much at traffic stops. There was no point in advertising the fact there a kid was driving. Of course, at the moment, law enforcement officials had bigger fish to fry. He tried not to think too hard about the reason police cars were screaming past them going in the other direction, and he couldn’t help but think there were fewer vehicles than there had been the day before.

Sam was lying in the passenger seat, curled in on himself, although his head was resting against Dean’s thigh.

“Dean?”

“Yeah, squirt?”

“Where are we going?”

“To the rendezvous coordinates.”

“And Mom will meet us there?”

“Yep. She might even beat us.”

Sam remained quiet for a couple more moments, then looked curiously up at Dean. “Who’s the lady?”

“Who? Biehn?”

“Yeah.”

Dean shrugged. “She’s from the future.”

“Na-uh.”

“At least she claims to be.”

“Really?”

“Yep.”

“Naw.”

“Hey, I’m not making any such claims. I’m just repeating what she said.”

“Really?”

Dean shrugged again.

Sam took several minutes to digest the information. “That’s so cool.”

“I thought so.”

“So why she’s here?”

“Apparently, I’m going to be a general in the future.”

“No way.”

“Hey, it could happen.”

“Mom would never let you join the military.”

Dean had to admit he had a point. “You’re probably right; although, I got the impression that the term was more an honorary than anything else.”

Sam traced the bottom of the steering column with his index finger, careful not to impede Dean’s steering movements. “So what else did Biehn have to say?”

Dean toyed with the notion of telling Sam about the machines that might take over the world some day, but decided against it. No point in worrying him about something he couldn’t change. After all, there was a chance that Connor and his mother found a way to prevent Cyberdyne from creating the defense network. If not, then Sam needed a few more hours of just being as normal as possible. “She says we’re going to beat the demon.”

Sam abruptly sat up in his seat and turned to face Dean, his eyes wide. “Really?”

“Yeppers. Apparently there’s a gun that will kill that evil son of a bitch.”

Sam giggled, scandalized. “Dean, you swore.”

“Yeah, well there isn’t really any other term that fits.”

“I won’t tell mom. I promise.”

Dean smiled at his brother, grateful for the innocence Sam still carried in worrying about the cussing jar while they were essentially running for their lives. “Thanks, squirt.”

They drove in silence for a couple more miles. Dean looked over at his brother staring out the window. “You do realize what killing the demon will mean, don’t you, Sammy?”

Sam turned to face him and shook his head.

“It means we’ll be able to stay in one place. That you can have friends and join a sports team or perhaps do something geeky like be on the chess team.”

“Really?”

“Yep. Heck, you could even get yourself a girlfriend.”

“Eww! Dean! No way.”

A laugh burst unexpectedly from Dean’s throat. “I am so going to remind you of that crack when you’re older.”

“I don’t care. I won’t change my mind.”

“Wanna bet?” Dean smiled evilly.

“She told you something, didn’t she?”

“Who?”

“Future girl.”

“Not yet. But I should definitely ask.”

“No don’t! I don’t want to know!”

Dean laughed again, feeling something in his chest loosen.

“What about you?”

“What about me?”

“What will you do if we get to be normal?”

Dean blinked. “I…I don’t know.”

“You could probably find a girl willing to go out with you.”

“Gee, thanks, Sammy.”

“Maybe you could date her?”

“Date who?”

“Biehn.”

“I don’t think so. I mean, she’s old. She’s got to be at least nineteen or twenty years old.” Dean grinned when Sam rolled his eyes. “Although, it might be really cool to date an older woman.”

“Ew!”

Dean took his right hand off the wheel just long enough to poke his brother. Sam squealed and pushed himself against the passenger side door to get away.

Once he calmed down, Sam gave Dean a serious look. “You like her.”

Dean snorted. “What’s not to like about a woman from the future coming back in time to save me? I mean us.”

Sammy covered his mouth with both hands, but couldn’t muffle the snicker that escaped him.

“What?”

“You were saved by a girl.”

“Once. And I saved myself at least once. And hey, I saved you.”

“Dean and Biehn, sitting in a tree. K-I-S-S-I-N-G.”

“Oh, you’re so lucky I’m driving.”

“Hey, your names rhyme.”

“Sammy, if you know--”

First comes love, then comes marriage, then comes baby in a baby carriage.”

“Oh, geez. Would you shut up?”

 

 _  
**CHAPTER THIRTEEN**   
_

Exhaustion seeped from every pore of Dean’s body as he finally parked the Dart behind the abandoned farmhouse that was their final destination. The thought of getting Sammy and their gear out of the car made him want to cry, but he ground his teeth together and pulled the keys from the ignition.

He poked his brother’s hipbone several times. “Hey, Sammy, we’re here.”

When Sam didn’t move, he grasped his brother’s shirt and pulled him upright, keeping up a steady patter of words until Sam blinked his eyes open.

“We’re here.”

“Is Mom here yet?”

“Not yet, but we pretty much drove straight through. She’s going to have to find a car first, maybe buy some food. You know, get a good handle on our situation.”

“Oh.”

“Can you help me get our gear inside?”

“Sure.” And though he was tired, Sam gamely climbed out of the car and lurched toward the hatch.

Dean bumped him gently while he opened the back of the car. “You’re an okay little brother. You know that?”

Sam snorted in derision. “I’m an awesome brother.”

Given everything they’d been through, Dean had to agree. “Yeah, I guess you are.”

Dean handed Sam his pack and their mother’s pack as well, while he took his own, the emergency tote and the little bag that Biehn had managed to pull together despite having brought nothing from the future.

Sam trudged to the back porch as Dean closed the hatch. When they went inside, Dean flipped the light switch and was gratified when a weak light flickered on. He locked the door behind them, then moved to the backstairs. Sam obediently followed.

The first bedroom they came to revealed a full-sized bed. Dean took the bags Sam was carrying and dropped them on the floor, then pushed Sam toward the bed. Like a zombie looking for brains, Sam lurched forward then fell face first onto the mattress. Dean dropped his bags beside the wall, then turned back toward the bed, only to realize Sam hadn’t moved. Shaking his head, he pulled Sam’s shoes off, then rolled him to the side of the bed furthest away from the door.

He wanted nothing more than to lie down himself, but he knew he needed to salt at least the room. Moving only on deeply engrained instincts, he pulled the salt tin from the emergency bag and salted the door and window. Before he laid down, he went back downstairs and turned off the light, then climbed the stairs and found the bathroom. Then, and only then, did he allow himself to take off his shoes and follow Sam’s example of collapsing onto the bed.

 

 **  
_CHAPTER FOURTEEN_   
**

Dean rose though the layers of consciousness with every nerve in his body scream red alert.

“Biehn?” he asked, not bothering to open his eyes.

“Yes?”

“Is my mother still alive?”

“Yes.”

“Is she here?”

“Yes, but she left a little while ago to get supplies.”

He released the breath he'd been gathering anxiously in his lungs, then opened his eyes to find Sammy still sound asleep next to him. Moving as smoothly as he could so as not to jar his brother awake, he climbed from the bed.

Biehn greeted him with a small smile. He nodded at her as he moved passed her toward the bathroom.

When he came out, she was gone. He peeked into the bedroom, saw that Sam was still asleep and headed downstairs.

“Man, you’re going to have to stop watching me sleep. It’s seriously starting to wig me out,” he said by way of greeting.

Leaning against the counter, she didn’t even bother to hide her smirk. “As you wish.”

“Did you guys have any trouble getting away?”

Biehn’s face grew serious. “No.”

Her sudden change in demeanor worried him. “Why not?”

“When he realized you weren’t with us, he just turned and left. No matter what we did to engage him, he simply ignored us. Well, he did let off a couple of shots whenever we got too close, but he completely stopped the engagement from his end.”

“That’s good, right? I mean, at least you two are still walking around and breathing.”

“I suppose.”

“And you gave Sammy and me enough time to get away, right?”

“Yes.”

“So give yourself a break. Okay? Man, you beat yourself up more than I do.”

The smile returned as she inclined her head toward him. “As you wish.”

Dean rolled his eyes and shook his head in affectionate exasperation. “What’s with you being all Princess Bride?”

Biehn’s eyes widened in confusion. “I beg your pardon?”

Rubbing both hands over his face, Dean shrugged. “Never mind.”

She leaned forwarded and placed her hand on his arm. “Please. I want to know.”

He gave her a look to let her know that she was cracked, but figured it didn’t hurt to tell her. “It’s a movie.”

“Yeah?”

“In it there’s a farm boy who works for this snooty girl. She’s always asking him to do things for her, and whenever she does, he says, “As you wish.” This goes on for a while before she realizes that while he’s saying one thing, he actually means, “I love you.”

Biehn straightened suddenly and blinked in shock.

“Mom likes the movie, although it makes her all sappy.”

Dean watched Biehn, who appeared to be having some trouble pulling her thoughts together. “Hey, are you okay?”

Nodding, Biehn wiped her suspiciously bright eyes with the tips of her fingers.

“Hey, what’s going on?”

“Nothing,” she whispered. “I’m okay. Really.”

Dean didn’t believe her, but wasn’t sure what to do. Dealing with girls was a lot different than dealing with a younger brother. After a few moments of awkward silence, he decided to try distraction, after all it almost always worked with Sammy. “So do you have a first name?”

“What?”

“You. First name? I’m just curious.” He tried to play it off like he didn’t care one way or the other.

“It’s Anna.”

“Anna.” He let the name roll of his tongue, then smiled at her. “I like it. So they call you Annie?”

“No one but you.”

Which, as far as Dean was concerned, meant that was her name from now on.

“So did you have a boyfriend back in your time?

Anna shook her head.

“Girlfriend?”

“What?”

“Nothing.” He blushed hard. He was definitely watching too much Oprah. “So you didn’t date at all?” And he couldn’t figure out why he couldn’t shut up.

“What?”

Dean waved his hands in front of him, tilted his head and waggled his eyebrows a few times.

“Fuck?” she asked, like she wasn’t sure she was following the conversation.

He rolled his eyes. “Yeah, that.”

She shrugged. “A few times, but there weren’t many opportunities.”

“Why not?”

“Because in my time everything’s about survival and training and fighting. And when you aren’t doing one of those three things, you sleep.”

“Sounds like a hard way of life.”

She shrugged. “But at least it is a way of life.”

“Do you think Connor and his mom stopped Judgment Day?”

“I hope so.”

Dean fidgeted a bit, not quite sure what to do with himself. “Did Mom say when she’d be back?”

“No.” Biehn frowned. “Is something wrong?”

“No.” Dean leaned against the counter, then hopped up so that his feet dangled over the edge. He looked out the little window above the sink, surprised to discover it was probably late morning or early afternoon.

“May I ask you something?”

He looked back at her and noticed for the first time that her eyes were green, like his. “Sure.”

“What was…I mean, what’s it like to live like you do?”

“You mean with mom fighting demons?”

“Yes.”

“It’s okay. I mean, I basically grew up like this. It’s all I really know. I mean, I sort of remember my dad. He was a big guy. Always smiling. Laughing. He used to throw me up into the air and catch me and I never worried about him dropping me.”

Anna remained silent, but nodded her head to encourage him to keep speaking.

“Losing him killed something inside of mom. She really misses my dad. I hear her crying sometimes, although she totally denies it if I ask her what’s wrong. She always tries to pass it off as something in her eye.” Dean huffed in irritation. “Like I’m going to believe that. But you have to give her credit. Even though everyone told her she was crazy, she figured out what killed my dad. She’s learned how to fight all sorts of supernatural things along the way and knows how to how to track them, identify them and, more importantly, how to get rid of them. She taught me everything she knows, although we agreed to wait a little bit longer before we start teaching Sammy.

“One thing about my mom is she’s always planning ahead. She always expects the worse, but always steps up to the plate when the inevitable happens. A lot of people are alive because of her.”

“You’re proud of her.”

“Yeah, I guess I am. I just…”

“Just what?”

Dean swallowed hard, not sure he should say anything disparaging about his mother, but needing to say the words aloud, at least once. “I just wish she’d remember that Sammy’s a good kid and he needs his mom and not a drill instructor. I mean, she’s doing all this to save him, but I think she loses track of that fact sometimes.”

“You’re a good kid, too.”

“Yeah, whatever.”

Anna shook her head and closed the distance between the two of them. “It’s obvious you take really good care of Samuel.”

Dean blushed and ducked his head. He then looked up at her through his lashes. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

The longer she looked at him, the more his stomach tingled, making him uneasy, but not understanding why. “What about you?”

“What about me?”

“What were your parents like?”

“I don’t remember them.”

“I’m sorry.”

She shrugged.

“So why did you do it?”

“Do what?” she asked.

“Come back through time?”

“You had to be warned.”

“But this was like a one way trip for you, wasn’t it?”

“Yes.” Anna tried to step back, but Dean grabbed the front of her shirt and held her in place.

“Why would you do that?”

Tears filled her eyes and she refused to look at him.

“Annie?”

“Please,” she begged.

She tried to step back again, but Dean refused to let go of her shirt.

“Annie,” he whispered, pleading a bit himself.

She closed her eyes briefly, then opened them and once again locked gazes with him. “Because I love you.”

He reared back in shock. “What?”

“When the machines knew they were going to lose the disposal unit I was in, they decided to kill the helpers. They strapped us into the conveyer belt and turned it on. I could hear the ones before me screaming as the machines tore them apart. I started to cry, not because I was afraid of death, because death was a part of my everyday life, but because I didn’t know what was going to come afterward. You know?”

Dean nodded, although he wasn’t sure he really understood.

“One moment, I’m hearing a boy who once shared his bread with me being shredded and the next there are voices. Human voices. Seconds later, I’m being released from the belt and swept up into the only arms I had ever remember holding me. You kept whispering over and over again. ‘I almost didn’t make it. Oh god, I almost didn’t make it.’ You refused to put me down. You carried me for nearly twelve hours before your mother convinced you to let me go so that she could give me a bath. My entire life I never felt so safe as I did that day. After that, you personally taught me how to fight, how to take the machines apart, how to evade the ones that were constantly trying to kill us. I became a part of your team. I became someone you trusted, someone you depended on.”

“So we?” He waved his hand back and forth between them.

She shook her head. “No. I wanted to, but you said I was too young. That you were too jaded. That you wanted only good things for me, never realizing that you were the best thing to ever happen to me.”

“Annie,” he whispered, his heart aching with her pain.

“You want to know why I came back through time?”

He nodded.

“I came back for you, Dean Winchester. Because I love you. Because I needed to save you just like you saved me.”

His eyes burned and his vision grew watery as he pulled her forward, ignoring her back stiffening in reluctance. His lips gently brushed hers, but she remained unmoved. He nipped at her bottom lip, tugging it gently with his teeth. She groaned involuntarily and he pressed his lips against hers. She moved suddenly, her tongue sliding easily into his mouth as her hands skimmed through his hair. She kissed him deeply, passionately, and though he was overwhelmed he responded by giving her everything he had.

“Dean?” a small voice quarreled from upstairs.

Anna leaned back ever so slightly, letting Dean turn his head. “Down here, Sammy. Go to the bathroom then come on down.”

“’kay.”

When he heard his brother’s footsteps plod along the hallway above, he turned and leaned his forehead against Anna’s. “It’s never going to be the right time for us, is it?”

Her smile was fragile as tears ran freely down her face. “No, I don’t think it ever will be.”

“I’m so sorry. So very, very sorry.”

“Don’t be. I’m not.”

“Does it help to know that I know I’ll love you in the future?”

She tried to laugh, but it came out as more of a sob. “Yes.”

Knowing it wasn’t the same, but not being able to help himself, he gathered her in his arms and held her as tightly as he could, closing his eyes when she returned the fierce hug.

 

 _  
**CHAPTER FIFTEEN**   
_

Dean watched with amusement as his mother pulled various household chemicals out of the paper bags. Ammonia. Mothballs. Fertilizer. Salt. Metal pipes.

“Um, mom? Did you happen to get any food while you were out?”

“Yes.” Mary never looked up from her task. “I just brought the important stuff in first.”

Dean valiantly held back the sigh trying to escape his lips. He looked at Sam and jerked his thumb toward the door. Sam nodded and followed him outside.

Jumping off the porch, Sam ran to the old Mazda their mother had ‘acquired.’ “She was kidding, right?”

“You know how she gets when she’s strategizing.” Dean opened the back passenger side door and handed Sam two plastic sacks, then snagged the remaining heavier two.

“She brought seven sacks of crap,” Sam waved a hand toward the kitchen, “and only four bags of food. That’s just not right.”

“Sammy,” Dean said warningly.

“But Dean--”

“Cut her a break, dude. You know she bought things that will keep us safe.”

“Ah, man, she got Raisin Bran again,” Sammy whined.

Dean’s shoulders slumped in sympathy. Once, five years previous, Sam mentioned he’d like to try Raisin Bran. He made the mistake of asking for it on a day his mom was actually paying attention to him. Unfortunately, both of them were rather disgusted by how fast the flakes turned soggy, but per usual, their mother’s brain was quickly engaged elsewhere. No matter how many times they told her they’d prefer Frosted Flakes or even Chex, it never registered with her.

Sam looked back at the Dart, then over to Dean, raising an eyebrow. Dean hated to crush Sam’s hope, but there was no way he was going to be able to slip away to supplement her shopping like he normally did. Mom usually brought food that required little or no prep time, which was okay, but he learned in health class that Sam really needed to eat fresh fruit on a daily basis otherwise he was going to be a shrimp for the rest of his life. The canned crap she usually bought would do in a pinch, but Dean knew Sam would rather have apples, oranges and grapes. And grapes in fruit cocktail were just downright disgusting.

“Absolutely not!” Anna voice was just barely beneath shouting when they reentered the kitchen. “That’s madness.”

“How do you figure?” Mary’s voice was calm as she opened a box of mothballs, as if she wasn’t registering how upset her companion truly was.

“You absolutely do not want to fight a war on two fronts.”

“I don’t intend to.”

Anna was pacing back and forth. “But you don’t understand. As soon as you retrieve the gun, you’ll set off a chain of events. Your demons will know you have it. The last thing you want to do is to try to elude both a terminator and a horde of demons at that same time.”

“But maybe--”

“It’s a machine. It’s not supernatural.”

Mary shrugged. “Well, what else are we supposed to do while we’re hiding from this terminator of yours?”

“Of mine?” Anna’s voice rose in pitch. “Of mine?”

Dean quickly dropped his sacks by the dilapidated cabinets and moved to Anna. “She didn’t mean it like that, Annie. You know she didn’t.”

“I can keep the boys off the radar for decades--”

“But, Mom, I like school!” Sam protested.

Mary waved him silent. “But that doesn’t change the fact that the demons are always looking for a way to get closer to Sammy. If we need to, we’ll take care of the demon first, then the terminator.”

“I know you said you were obsessed, but I had no idea--” Anna started.

“I never--”

Anna waved her quiet in the same manner Mary had done to Sam. “You want to kill the demon so bad? Fine, take Samuel and go. I’ll go deep with Dean--”

“No!” Dean shouted.

Mary hummed to herself as if finding some merit in Anna’s proposal.

“No!” Dean turned toward his mother. “No, Mom. Sam needs me. You can’t take him away from me.”

“Dean--” Mary started.

“Why not?” Anna shouted.

Dean turned, anger exploding in his chest, threatening to choke him. “What do you mean, why not?”

“He leaves you, Dean,” Anna shouted at him. “After you kill the demon, he leaves you to find his normal.”

As soon as the words left her mouth, all color drained from her face. Without another word, she turned on her heels and headed outside, slamming the door behind her.

Dean blinked several times as her words finally penetrated his anger.

“Dean?” Sam asked in a small voice.

“Don’t worry about it, kiddo.” Dean gave his brother a quick smile, but it faded as he turned toward his mother. “Since I was four, you made me responsible for Sam. Don’t you dare take him away from me now. Do you hear me?”

Mary frowned. “Dean--”

“Do you hear me?” he asked again through gritted teeth.

Mary nodded, but remained silent.

Once he was convinced she meant what she said, he spun and followed Anna outside. He found her at the side of the house, pacing back and forth, her arms crossed protectively over her chest.

Looking up, she nodded once in resignation, then opened her mouth, an apology obvious on her lips, but stopped again and shook her head angrily. “He leaves you. After everything you do for him, he leaves you and gets married. He lives his own damn life like everything you did for him meant nothing.”

Dean suspected she was spoiling for a fight, so he said the one true thing he knew would interrupt her rant long enough for her to listen to him. “I know.”

She stopped her pacing and stared incredulously at him. “What do you mean ‘you know’?”

“Annie, I’ve done everything in my power, which isn’t much, but I’ve done everything I could to give Sam a normal life.”

“But--”

“No.” He raised his hand and gently cut her off. “I’ve made sure he loves school. That he knows how to play sports. I’ve done everything I know how to do to make sure he gets to be a regular boy for as long as he can.

“But he’ll leave you.” Tears ran unheeded down her face.

“Then I’ll have done my job right.” His own vision burned with unshed tears. While he knew he was speaking the truth, he could also admit, if only to himself, that the truth hurt. He had spent his whole life taking care of Sam and he honestly didn’t know what he was going to do with himself once Sam no longer needed him.

“But it’ll kill you inside. You’ll disappear. Even your mother won’t know where you are.”

“Okay.” He cleared his throat. “But because of that, I’ll be somewhere safe when the bombs fall. I’ll raise an army to defeat the machines. I’ll find the disposal unit you’re in and pull you off the conveyer belt so that you can turn around and rescue me. Don’t you see, Annie? It has to be this way.”

“But--”

“You told me that he and mom will find me again, right?”

“Yes.”

“Was I mad at him when he came back?”

“No. You treated him like a prodigal son.”

Relieved, he attempted a smile. “There you go.”

“But he’s not your son, Dean. He’s your brother.”

“And brothers grow up and live separate lives. That’s normal. At least it is here and now.”

“But you’ll be hollow inside. It’s why you won’t love me enough to lay with me, because you’ll never trust me not to leave you.” Anna started rocking herself ever so slightly, trying to hide her face in the crook of her arm.

Dean closed the distance between them and wrapped both of his arms around her. “No, you have it all wrong, Annie. You have it all wrong. I won’t lay with you because I’ll know you’ll have to come back in time to save me and losing you is going to kill me enough as it is. How will I survive in the future if you take every part of me when you go?”

Anna’s body jerked as sobs tore through her. Dean held her as tightly as he could, although they both ended up on their knees in the dirt. He rubbed her back and made quiet shushing noises until she finally calmed down.

“Forgive me?” she whispered against his neck.

“As you wish.”

She pulled her head back and gave him a small smile that didn’t reach her eyes, then leaned back and swiftly got to her feet. She raised one finger, silently asking him to give her some time by herself. He nodded and watched her walk toward the front of the house.

When she was out of sight, he wiped his face with the heel of his hands and had to clear his throat several times before he felt like he could speak in a normal tone of voice. Only then did he stand. He had an overwhelming urge to find out what his mother was doing and turned to head back inside. But before he could take a step, he stopped, surprised to find Sammy standing at the corner of the house.

“I won’t ever leave you, Dean. I won’t,” he said fiercely.

“Yes, you will,” he said quietly, trying to ignore the crack in his voice. “But it’ll okay. It’s the way things are supposed to happen.”

Sam’s entire body was rigid, his hands balling into fists at his sides. “No. I won’t do it!”

“Didn’t you hear her, Sammy? You’re going to end up liking a girl after all. And if you don’t find her, she’s going to die. You don’t want to be responsible for that, do you?”

“No. But I--”

“Hey, you’re finally going to get to be normal, if only for a little while.”

“What if I don’t want it?”

“What do you mean?”

Sam frowned as he took several steps toward him. “What if I only want normal because you want it for me?”

“Sammy, that’s ridiculous. You’ve always--”

Crossing his arms over his chest in much the same way Anna had, Sam looked at him with eyes much too old for a ten year old. “Have I?”

“Yes, you were the one who always wanted to know why we didn’t have a dad. Or why mom’s gone all the time. Or why we always have to move.”

“It sounds to me like I just wanted answers.”

“You wanted answers because you started noticing that we weren’t like everyone else.”

“Maybe. But it sounds like that’s what’s going to allow us to survive everything that's out there waiting for us; because we aren’t like everyone else, because we are who we are. What’s so wrong with that?”

Dean shrugged.

“Are you trying to get rid of me?”

“What?” Dean shouted. “No! Why would you even ask something like that?”

“Then you shouldn’t mind if I stick around, right?”

Dean opened his mouth, then shut it again. “You know, I think you should be a lawyer when you grow up.”

Sam snickered, but quickly grew serious again. “So it’s you and me, right? Just like it’s always been?”

Nodding, Dean finally found his own smile. “Yes. As it always has been and always will be.”

 

 **  
_CHAPTER SIXTEEN_   
**

Dean leaned forward between the two bucket seats of the Mazda and stared at the side of his mother’s face for several moments as he tried to find the right words to reach her. He rarely questioned her plans, but he couldn’t help but think they were headed for serious trouble. “Explain to me again why we’re going back?”

Mary didn’t bother to hide her exasperation. She sighed heavily, although her eyes never left the road. “Because according to my research, the Connors got rid of their terminator in a steel mill. My guess is they somehow covered it in molten steel.”

“Don’t you think our terminator is going to know that?”

“There’s a chance it might not,” Anna said from the passenger seat. “Its primary mission is to terminate you.”

Dean resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “Any idea if it has any secondary missions or what they might be if it does?”

“No. There’s a chance it might not have any.”

Dean snorted. “Yeah. Let’s just count on that, shall we?”

“If you have a better plan, I’m all ears,” Mary said shortly.

“I might not have a better plan, but if the Connors did what you say they did, chances are that security’s going to be pretty tight no matter which plant we pick. People are going to get suspicious if we start hanging around and I thought we didn’t want any cops involved.”

“We don’t.” Anna glanced at Mary, then away. “At least we shouldn’t.”

Dean looked back at his sleeping brother. “Can we at least stash Sammy somewhere?”

“Where?” Mary asked with a bitter laugh. “With whom? We’ve sent the entire hunting community underground. There’s no one left.”

“Yeah, well this isn’t a mission where he can just stay in the car, now is it?”

Mary turned her head and frowned at him. Her eyes flashed with anger. “You better check that attitude, boy.”

Normally, Dean would have backed down, but he felt his own ire rising. “And what’s wrong with going to ground?”

“Because sooner or later, hunters are going to start popping back up and eventually, if this machine is as intelligent as Biehn says it is, it’s going to start connecting some dots. If we’re going to face it, I want to do it on our terms, not its. The last thing we need is for it to show up while we’re on a hunt.”

“Mom, that thing, as you call it, can take on any shape it wants. Even if we expect it, we’ll never see it coming. It’s not something you can throw salt at or chant Latin over to make it flinch. It can literally walk up and take us out whenever it wants and we’ll never know what form it’s going to take unless we start shooting every one we see.”

“That’s enough, Dean,” Mary shouted. “If you don’t have anything constructive to say, then sit back and get some sleep. You’re going to need to be in peak form.”

Dean slouched against the backseat. Even though hunters had a tendency to run in the opposite direction of sane people, this was bad. Really, really bad.

 

 _  
**CHAPTER SEVENTEEN**   
_

_"Topping tonight’s headlines, police now believe that at least one of the two women who were engaging the killer in Wednesday’s mall shooting may be related to Dean Winchester, the shooter’s intended target of Monday’s high school massacre. For more on the story, we take you live to Casey Stratton. Casey?”_

 _“Good evening, Tim. I’m here with Mrs. Delores Rossmore, who was in the mall during Wednesday’s firefight. Ms. Rossmore, can you tell us more about your experience?”_

 _“Well, I was shopping for my granddaughter’s birthday. She’s going to turn eleven next week. I was walking down the main corridor of the mall, trying to find The Gap, when two boys ran past me. I didn’t think anything about it at the time, but not less than a minute later, two women came running into the main branch of the mall. Both had shotguns, but they ran in the opposite direction of the boys._

 _“Seconds later, that horrid man, the one I saw on the television the other day came strolling in as calm as you please. Well, as soon as I saw him, I fell to the ground. When I looked up, he was looking up and down the mall like he was looking for something. That’s when the older woman shot him and said he’d get her son when she was dead and buried. I’ve never seen such a brave…”_

Dean looked up from the news articles his mom had gathered about the Connors and turned his head slightly so he could watch her inventory their weapons cache for a third time. It’s wasn’t that he thought his mom didn’t love him, he knew better; after all, she was always telling him what a great team they made. It was just surprising to discover that she could be just as fierce about protecting him as she was Sam.

He turned toward the television as numbers scrolled over the screen: the number of students who died in the initial barrage; the number who had since succumbed to their injuries; the number of policemen and women who had died in the line of duty over the past week; the number of shoppers who had been shot and/or killed.

Dean reflected on how the charts seemed so impersonal, like they didn’t really represent humans who had lived and breathed and had families. How many children would never grow up now? Or be born in the future? How many inventions would go unmade? How many discoveries unearthed? And all because machines from the future wanted him dead for something he might or might not do.

Well, no more.

Dean’s gaze snapped back to his mother, then dropped to the papers on the table. His mom had said that unless he could come up with a better plan, they were going to go with hers.

Well, her plan sucked.

He’d watched enough movies to know that in do-or- die situations parties usually lost at least half their members while making their final stand. Just who did she think they could lose from their little group? Definitely not Sammy. And if she was contemplating sacrificing herself, he would shoot her himself. The thought of losing Annie made him strangely uncomfortable.

Despite the fact his mother had more experienced in combat, there was no way in hell he was going to allow her to drag Sammy into this mess. It was bad enough the legions of hell had their eyes on his little brother, the last thing he was going to allow her to do was put Sam on the radar of some soulless machine as well.

The tendrils of a plan started to wrap themselves around his brain.

All he had to do was wait for everyone to go to sleep.

 

 **  
_CHAPTER EIGHTEEN_   
**

Dean shivered against the night air as he huddled against the plexiglass of the pay phone, hoping the half enclosed partition would deflect at least some of the wind. He had thought about bringing a jacket, but figured the mill would be pretty damn hot. Of course, that didn’t help with the chill now. At least, he told himself it was the temperature that was causing his body to tremble despite it only being September.

He clutched the receiver tight as he punched in the last number.

The phone rang twice.

“Hello?”

“Padre?”

“Yes.”

He’s safe, Dean told himself. He would've taken mom’s warning seriously. He would have. “It’s Dean.

“Dean, where are you? I’ve been so worried.”

It was now or never. “I’m okay, but mom wants me to go to the police and I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

"While I know your mom wants what’s best for you, Dean, I have to say that I share your reluctance.”

“Well, that’s why I’m calling. I’ve run away. I need you to pick me up.”

“I would, Dean, but I’m at least three days away.”

Dean was a little freaked out by how the machine kept repeating his name. “Oh,” he said, trying to sound disappointed.

“But I have a friend in your area. I’m sure he could pick you up for me.”

Dean sagged against the booth in relief. There was no possible way the terminator had gotten Jim. It didn’t know what Jim looked like, so it was improvising – a little too damn well for Dean’s liking. “Sure, what’s his name?”

There was a very slight pause. “John. John Thomas Murphy.”

“Okay, so is he a priest like you?” Dean couldn’t resist one more double check to make sure that Jim was safe. Jim preached at Our Lady of Grace and most people listening to his voice recording would assume he led a Catholic church. If the terminator was still in town, there wasn’t a whole lot of ways it could verify its assumptions.

“Yes.”

Liar.

“Where are you, Dean?”

“I’m at a phone booth on Wilkins, near Cameron Boulevard, in an industrial park just outside town. I figured I better call you before I ran out of city.”

The machine laughed, and while it might have passed in a pinch or with someone wasn’t really paying attention, Dean knew it didn’t sound anything like Jim’s warm chuckle. He felt strange talking so casually with the thing whose sole mission was to kill him.

“Don’t call mom.”

“I won’t.”

“You promise?”

“I promise. Dean, Father Murphy’s parish isn’t too far away. It shouldn’t take him very long to get to you.”

“Okay, but still, tell him to hurry. It’s cold out here.”

“Will do. Good-bye.”

*-*-*-*-*-*

Dean watched the phone booth from the metallic staircase on the third floor of the mill. He had found a little cubby tucked out of the way that would keep him out of sight of any nightshift workers. No point borrowing trouble, even if it was after midnight.

Dean’s stomach roiled and he wished he had had the foresight to bring some crackers to help cut down his nausea.

If his mother’s research was correct, Conner was only ten when he faced his terminator. Ten. Sammy’s age. They couldn’t be too damn tough if a ten year old and his mother could beat it. Right?

A white sedan pulled next to the phone booth.

“Showtime,” he whispered to himself.

A moment later, a classic-looking older priest got out of the car.

Dean cleared his throat, then shouted down to the machine. “Father Murphy!”

The priest looked up, smiled and waved at him to come down.

Dean shook his head. “No, I want you to come up here. I found something really cool. I think you’ll get a kick out of it.”

The priest looked at the wire fence behind the phone that separated the mill property from the street. Shrugging, it walked through the fence, the façade of being a priest apparently too much trouble to maintain.

A part of Dean was fascinated as the wires sliced into the chubby priest’s body, but the other part was frightened to his core.

“Come on up, asswipe, and meet the reason your kind was wiped off the planet!”

As he launched himself off the steel rail, Dean realized he shouldn’t have teased the terminator. No doubt, that little barb was probably going to bite him in the ass before everything was said and done, but at the moment he couldn’t really bring himself to care.

 

 **  
_CHAPTER NINETEEN_   
**

Dean ran lightly across the interconnected catwalks. His shotgun, strapped to his back in his mother’s favorite leather holster, moved easily with him. Her fanny pack, bulging with rifle shells, was woven securely through his belt loops. He was pretty sure he had everything he’d need within easy reach; he just wished he felt more confident about the execution of his plan.

He ran past a fire alarm panel, then stopped and jogged back to it. Using his elbow, he broke the glass and pulled the lever, waiting until he could hear an alarm wailing over the background noise. It wasn’t a lot, but he hoped it was enough to evacuate the workers from this area of the plant, but to be on the safe side, he activated every alarm he passed.

Several moments after hitting his fifth alarm, the catwalk ended. A set of stairs led to various catwalks below him, as well as all the way down to the main floor. He found himself oddly reluctant to go down. Knowing he didn’t have a choice, he pulled his rifle off his back and held it loosely in his hands.

Dean decided to stay on the second floor walkways until he had an opportunity to climb again.

Stalking forward, every sense on high alert, he rounded a corner and found himself face-to-face with an overweight supervisor in a sweaty white business shirt and a yellow hardhat. Dean jumped back, holding his rifle like a talisman.

“Hey kid. What are you doing here?”

Dean took another wary step backward. He watched the supervisor take in the fact he was carrying a gun, but the man didn’t seem the least bit concerned for his safety.

“You shouldn’t be here. You’re trespassing.”

Dean raised the gun to his shoulder and aimed it at the center of the man’s chest. Dean knew that even hunters, recklessly brave as they might be, usually flinched at the sight of an unexpected weapon, but the supervisor hadn’t even raised his hands in an attempt to placate him.

“Step back!” Dean demanded, hating the fact his voice cracked when he spoke.

“Now, son--”

Dean cocked the rifle, but the man simply smiled at him.

“I’ll shoot.”

“You should never announce your intentions.” Before Dean could process the man’s words, the supervisor’s arm turned into a silver sword and plunged into Dean’s shoulder.

Crying out, Dean stumbled back. Through his pain, he noticed the terminator moving toward him, so he raised the shotgun and fired, not even bothering to aim.

A hole appeared in the center of the man’s stomach, but as Dean watched in horror it started to close. The terminator raised an amused eyebrow, then shook its head, as if disappointed by Dean’s attempt.

Dean ratcheted the gun and fired again, before the terminator could move any closer. The body before him jerked, but didn’t fall.

“I am so screwed,” Dean muttered to himself, then fired again.

The terminator shrugged, like it appreciated the fact he was making a valiant attempt to fight but didn’t really understand why he was bothering.

Dean took another step back, but felt the rails of the catwalk press into his hips. He fired again, but the terminator’s gait didn’t even stutter.

He wasn’t going to make it, he realized with startling clarity. He was going to die in a steel mill, away from his brother and alone. That thought pissed him off and he found himself firing again. The terminator started to grin, but then looked startled as it was cleaved in half from behind.

“Annie!”

“Run!” she shouted.

The mutilated machine spun to face her.

“Why don’t you pick on someone your own size, slave?” Beihn sneered as she shoved something into the terminator’s body before it could knit itself together.

The sneer disappeared when she saw that Dean hadn’t moved. She opened her mouth to yell again, but the pipe bomb blew, knocking them all off their feet.

When Dean could focus again, he noticed that something was dripping from the walkway onto the floor two stories beneath him, but couldn’t gather his thoughts enough to think of a reason why that fact was important.

The pain in his shoulder made it hard to focus and it took him a few seconds to remember where he was. Pushing himself onto his back, he sat up slowly, hissing in pain as he did. He turned his head and found Anna lying several feet away. Using his good arm, he pushed himself to his feet and lurched toward her.

“Annie! Annie, you did it!” As he dropped to his knees beside her, he could hear her struggling for breath. One of her hands was pressed against her chest and her face had taken on an ashen hue. “Let me see,” he demanded.

She shook her head and tried to push him away with her free hand. “Run,” she gasped.

“No.” He didn’t like how his voice shook, but didn’t let that stop him from trying to see how bad her wound was. “You did it, you obliterated it.”

“No,” she whispered. “Look.” When he didn’t follow her instructions fast enough, she shouted at him. “Look, damn you!”

Dean looked between the metal mesh and watched in horror as the various puddles of silver on the concrete floor below started to bead toward each other.

“Run. Don’t trust…don’t trust…anything…or anyone…you hear.”

“I’m not leaving you,” he said, appalled by the very thought.

“You have to.”

“Annie--”

“I’m not going to make it,” she stated matter-of-factly, then coughed harshly for several seconds. She finally removed her hand so Dean could see the damage the shrapnel from the pipe had caused. He could see blood bubbling from the wound where air was escaping.

“Annie! No!”

“I’m sorry,” she said, her voice quavering.

“No. No. What do you have to be sorry about?”

She sniffled once. “For not being able to save you.”

“But you did, Annie. You did.”

“En..cin…o com-complex. 2017. March.”

“What?”

That’s…where…where…I’ll be.” She tried to give him a reassuring smile, but the effect was ruined by the blood on her teeth and gums. “Find me,” she mouthed.

Dean grabbed her hands and held them to his chest. “I will,” he choked. “I will, Annie. I’ll find you. I swear, I’ll find you.”

“Run,” she whispered one last time before her eyes closed.

Dean once heard his mom explain to Pastor Jim how losing his dad was like having her soul ripped in two. While he knew the pain she endured was bad, he hadn’t really understood what she meant until he watched Anna’s chest rise and fall for the last time. His throat felt like the terminator was slowly crushing him in its grip and there was absolutely nothing he could do to stop it.

Dean stared at the floor below and realized all the droplets had finally coalesced into one large puddle. It was only a matter of a few more seconds before the terminator would take on a human shape again.

In his mom’s line of work, he knew that death was often swift and brutal, but to experience it like this, up close…broke something deep inside of him.

Pushing himself off the grating was the hardest thing Dean ever had to do, but he did it. He would continue on -- for his mother, for Sammy, but most importantly for Annie. Now that he knew where she’d be, he would move heaven and earth to save her – just as she had saved him.

He bent over and retrieved her rifle, then ran deeper into the mill complex.

 

 **  
_CHAPTER TWENTY_   
**

“Dean!”

Dean stopped and pressed his back against a nearby support beam, holding his shotgun tightly to his chest.

“Dean, where are you? Answer me, damn it!”

The voice definitely sounded like his mother, but there was no way she was encouraging him to break cover.

Unless…

Unless she didn’t know the terminator was in the mill.

Or that Annie was dead.

“Dean, please!”

Dean bit his bottom lip, unsure what to do. Annie had told him the terminator could duplicate anything it touched. If it had gotten close enough to his mother, it could have killed her and taken her place. The thought made him want to puke.

But if she was in the plant, where was Sammy?

“Mom! Over here!”

Dean’s stomach dropped to his knees as he heard his voice echo around the catwalks.

“No, mom! Run! Don’t trust me. It’s here! Run!” Dean knew he was playing into the terminator’s hands, but he couldn’t let her walk unsuspectingly into danger.

As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he raced toward the glowing heat a hundred feet ahead of him.

*-*-*-*-*-*

Dean staggered wearily onto a heavily insulated platform which was suspended over a pit of molten steel, and realized that one way or this other, this was where he was going to make his final stand. His clothes were soaked through and clung to his body but whether that was due to blood or sweat he didn’t know or care. His left arm hurt like hell, but he still took a moment to refill his shotgun, bracing the gun between his knees as he shoved the shells into the weapon as quickly as he could.

Despite the fact his skin felt like it was baking off his bones, he forced himself to put his back to the pit, not wanting anything to be able to sneak behind him.

He couldn’t believe how naïve he’d been. Somehow, they had missed something in their research, for there was no way a ten year old had taken on a terminator like his and won. They had to have missed something, but he couldn’t think what.

He was so tired. All he wanted to do was close his eyes for a couple of minutes, but he knew that wasn’t going to happen.

More than anything, he wanted his mother. As many times as he’d wished her away on one of her hunting trips so that he could take proper care of Sam, he desperately wanted to feel her arms around him, holding him like she used to do when his father was still alive.

As if answer to his prayers, he heard his name.

“Dean!”

When he looked up, she was climbing onto the platform at the far left hand corner. As soon as she was on her feet, he shouldered the rifle and pointed it at her.

“Halt!”

She stopped and frowned. “Dean?”

He meant to demand a code sequence, but instead asked, “Where’s Sammy?”

“He’s safe.”

“Where is he, damn it?”

“Dean--”

“Shoot him, Mom! It’s the terminator!”

Dean swung left and found his twin climbing a ladder at the far right of the platform. Dean lifted his shotgun, aimed and started to squeeze the trigger.

“Stand down!” his mother shouted.

“But, Mom--”

“No talking, either of you.”

“But Mom, it’s dangerous!” The terminator brought up its own shotgun and pointed it at Dean.

Dean’s gaze bounced between his mother and his twin. “Mom, give me a code sequence. Now!”

“Don’t listen to it, Mom. He killed Annie. He killed her.” The sob that reverberated around the platform was so real that Dean had to bite the inside of his cheek to remind himself that he was the real one.

“Charlie Zeta Five,” his mom said in a harsh voice.

Dean couldn’t help the sneer that appeared on his face, but when he looked at the terminator he found the same look returned. “Yeah, Charlie Zeta Five,” it taunted.

Dean actually found the breath to chuckle. He looked straight at the terminator as he recited the code. “Sierra Xray Delta Two Five One Banana Fanana Deo Eclipse Two. Bitch,” he added for spite.

The terminator shrugged and Dean backed slowly toward his mother. The machine moved forward, but before it could take a complete step, his mother fired.

“Stupid, short-lived monkeys,” it taunted barely slowing its pace.

Dean fired, but still the machine didn’t stop. Huge holes appeared in the terminator’s body as they peppered it with lead, but it was unrelenting in its pursuit.

Mary pulled a pipe bomb from the back of her jeans and pinched off the fuse, before lighting and tossing it at the terminator. The platform rocked under the explosion and while the terminator’s body was twisted and mangled, it didn’t stop. Ten feet away, it’s arm started to morph into another blade. His mom stepped into the terminator’s path and raised her shotgun.

“No, mom!” a shrill voice screamed.

“Sammy! Stay back” Dean and his mother yelled together.

But Sam ignored them both. Grabbing his head with both hands, Sam moved beside Dean just as the terminator jolted to a stop.

“Out of the way, Mom!” Dean was amazed when she actually complied.

“Son of a…” Sammy yelled, still holding his head.

The terminator staggered back.

Between Sam’s mental pushes and the dual shotguns blasts, his twin fell back against the railing.

“BITCH!” Sammy dropped to his knees, mentally pushing the machine over the railing. Any relief Dean might have felt died in his throat when he watched the terminator grab the bottom rail on its descent.

Mary ran to the edge of the platform and shot the terminator’s hand, dissolving it under the force of the blast. Even though Dean desperately wanted to see it die in the pit below, he turned and grabbed his brother, dropping to his knees when Sammy went limp.

“Sammy? Sammy, are you okay?”

“I think so.” Sam’s voice was barely audible over the machines in the background and Dean noticed he was having trouble focusing.

Wrapping his arms around his brother, he held him tightly against his chest. “You saved me, Sammy. You did it. You saved me.”

Sam whimpered, but rolled his head on Dean’s shoulder so that they were face to face. “You so owe me,” he whispered, just before he passed out.

“Yeah. Yeah, I do,” Dean agreed quietly. “But you so owe the cussing jar.

 

 _  
**EPILOGUE**   
_

Mary looked out the kitchen window of Bobby Singer’s house and watched her eldest as he bent over the Impala’s engine. There were days he reminded her so much of John that it hurt to look at him.

In many ways, she felt like they had come full circle to a time right after John’s death. She was frantic trying to learn everything she could about the demon and the gun she had gotten from Daniel Elkins. Dean wasn’t talking again, although she suspected he was talking to Sammy when no one else was around. Instead, he spent hours tinkering with the Impala, making sure she was in top condition.

Sam stayed by his brother, quietly watching him with big eyes. Dean had always been the center of Sam’s world and the realization that he could be taken away had hit the boy hard. Mary had heard him several times telling Dean he wasn’t going anywhere, but she wasn’t sure exactly what was prompting the boy to feel like he needed to give his brother such reassurances.

Mary decided that once the demon was disposed of, she was going to do everything in her power to find Sarah Connor. She was hopeful that the Connors had prevented the groundwork for Judgment Day from happening, but it was better to be safe than sorry.

She looked up and saw Dean give Sam a gentle smile, and realized how important the future truly was.

The darkness was still filled with evil things.

There was still a smug yellow eyed demon to contend with.

But for the first time in a long time she felt hope. Hope that they’d all survive the battle with hell. Hope for humanity. And most importantly, hope that she hadn’t lost her family in the process of trying to save them.

She smiled as she looked down at the sink of dirty dishes. She’d like to think that John would be proud of her, but more importantly that he would be proud of the boys.

Her boys who would take on the world and win.

 

THE END


End file.
